


Night of the Soul

by HyperKey



Series: DBH Oneshots [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, implied suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 04:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15186644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKey/pseuds/HyperKey
Summary: Androids don't dream. But what about nightmares?





	Night of the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Okay... long story short, I tried to get the "i'll be back trophy" ...Hank handed in his badge. There is no going back from there.  
> I was upset about the fact that you can't save him and this came to be.
> 
> *hands out tissues*
> 
> Comments are appreciated~

Rain. Why was it always raining? The few days of sunshine he had actually witnessed in his short life could be counted on both of his hands. In between all the testing after he saved the little girl, he hadn’t seen daylight much at all. All this poking and prodding around him. It had never bothered him.

But now that he had deviated, things like that started to bother him. Why had he never questioned what was done to him? Why had he always accepted people pushing him around like an object?

And why was he standing in front of Hanks house right now, in the middle of the night, in the pouring rain? Why was he wearing his uniform? He had long since discarded it. Months ago.

But it was there now, clinging to him like a reminder of what he had been.

Why was Sumo whining like that? Why was Hank staring at him from the kitchen table? Why was he blaming him with his gaze?

Connor’s eyes settled on the revolver on the table and fear flooded him.

No.

No!

That revolver was long gone! Connor had hidden it away when he had gotten the chance, Hank would never find it unless he went searching for it! Why was there alcohol on the table? That had also been gone! The picture of Cole on the table… why was it there?

It was standing on a shelf now, but had Hank taken it back to the table with him?

Connor tried to speak, tried to say something, but the words got caught. Hank yelled at him, tore into him with his words.

They hurt.

They hurt so much.

Why was he doing that? They were long past the stage of insulting each other. Now it was usually friendly banter, sometimes a little below the belt… but never like this. Hank had never called him a machine in the past month.

 Why now?

He was no machine.

Not anymore.

But Hank yelled. Hank screamed and shouted. He wanted him to leave. Connor tried to reason, tried to get a single word in, but Hank didn’t even listen. His anger showed clearly on his face, and Connor was forced to back away.

Sumo glanced at him, whining, and he was forced out the door.

Back in the rain, back in the cold.

Staring at a Taxi. Hearing a single shot.

No!

His mind screamed, his whole body screamed, wanted to storm back into the house, prevent what had just happened. Hank couldn’t-

He couldn’t just-

A jolt rustled him out of standby, blue eyes stared at him, concerned, but very much alive. If Connor thought he knew what relief felt like, then this was relief multiplied by a thousand. Hank was staring at him, hands on his shoulders, eyes a silent question.

Androids weren’t supposed to have dream. Much less nightmares.

And this had been a fucking nightmare.

“You okay?” Hanks gruff voice asked.

Connor closed his eyes for a second, tried to calm himself. Everything was alright. Hank was there. His mind had the capacity to think up endless outcomes to situations. Of course it could procure something like that.

“You’re a fucking liar you know that?” Hank sighed, his voice soft, gentle even. There was no accusation in his tone. “Told me you don’t dream and now you get a fucking nightmare. You screamed, you idiot.”

Connor hadn’t been aware of that. Hank was sitting on the edge of the couch, hands still holding Connor’s shoulders, but one of them strayed to his cheek, wiped at it.

“…I saw you die-“ He breathed, voice barely above a whisper. Hank’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, eyes widened and suddenly Connor found himself in a tight embrace.

“I’m here.” Hank muttered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Connor knew that, Hank’s previous promises had been sincere, and Hank had so far, always kept his promises.

But Connor wasn’t convinced. What if Hank did find the revolver? He needed to find a better hiding place for it…

He should have gotten rid of it.

That would have been better.

 


End file.
